Washing the Past Away
by ndavika
Summary: After their interrupted sparring, Michael & Nikita find a way to relieve some of their tensions...


AN: Ok be gentle everyone, its my first foray into fanfic :) After the sparring previews this week for 2x14, this idea wouldn't leave me alone, & for those of us sincerely bemoaning the lack of Mikita-ness lately, hope this helps! I don't own any of the characters/plot ideas for Nikita, the CW does, and I just get to play with them on occasion if I'm good, ;-) Enjoy!

P.S. In case the rating didn't tip you off, its naughty...so if you don't like that sort of thing...I wouldn't suggest reading it ;-)

**Washing the Past Away**

Nikita let the searing hot water run over her, washing away the sweat from her and Michael's sparring. Was it her imagination, or had Michael honed his skills since the last time they'd practiced?

Sparring with Michael again was a thrill she had almost forgotten. The way he moved so gracefully, like a shadow, mirroring her movements... the way his back flexed, his arms stretched, and his legs shot out, utterly destroying everything that got in his path...

Watching his powerful dance, and performing her own opposite him, gave Nikita a throbbing ache in her every muscle - and it wasn't from strain. She had missed him so much while he was away; every day without him by her side had felt like an eternity, a bad dream she was hoping desperately to wake from. Now he was back, and the catharsis brought about from their 'fight' and talking about past issues had cleared some of the air between them. The boxing match downstairs had morphed from playful jabs to physically manifesting their frustrations, and then into the familiar dance of sexual tension that had fueled many of their rounds, from her days as a recruit to going rogue. It had been so long since they'd touched and that last maneuver had Michael landing on top of her. Had Alex not loudly burst through the door at that moment, she knew the tension would have boiled over, probably right there in the living room, Kevlar blinds closed or not. Yes, Nikita was definitely feeling...stimulated... by their fighting.

She giggled at the thought. A moment later, she almost jumped out of her skin when the shower curtain was thrown back and Michael poked his head into the steam.

"Need someone to wash your back, my love?" he drawled, smiling playfully, "Me and my buddies are free to help you out."

The play on 'watching her back' wasn't lost on her, and she chuckled. "I think there might be room for one sweaty ex-Division agent in here, but your friends are going to have to find somewhere else to bathe."

Michael climbed in with her, already naked. Apparently, he had been pretty confident about her answer.

She smiled over her shoulder at him, "Shower with a friend. Nice water-saving measure."

"Yeah, well, I try to be environmentally friendly. I plan to be around for a while," he quipped, taking the soap and lathering up his hands.

His big, slick hands smoothed over her aching shoulders and she moaned.

"Good?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

"Mmmhmmm..." she sighed.

Michael continued kneading her shoulders and neck with long, firm strokes.

"You're tense," he observed.

"Mmm... not for long," she joked.

He worked the lather, and his fingers, down to her middle back.

"What's bothering you?" he asked.

"Nothing. Nothing worth talking about," she answered breathlessly.

Michael stopped rubbing.

"Awww! Okay, okay..." Nikita relented. He went back to work, moving down to her waist, "I just really don't want to face reality for a little while. All of these new developments with Percy loose, and Amanda running Division with no power-check and I want to just BE for a moment, you know?" she told him.

Michael stepped closer, so her soapy back slid against his chest. He leaned over her and began to lather her stomach.

"Well our world never slows down, but let's just take right now as a break from it. Our own little isolated island in this room, hmmm?" he whispered in her ear.

As if to illustrate, he slid his slippery hands up over her breasts, teasing her slick nipples lightly with bubbly fingers.

"Oh... I think that's an excellent idea," Nikita groaned, arching her back into him. Michael grunted at the sensation of her round rear pressed against his pelvis, and Nikita felt him instantly harden.

He slid his hands down to her belly, then her hips, and over her thighs, lathering her lower body completely. He rinsed his hands and reached down between her legs, slipping his fingertip inside and caressing her lightly.

She panted desperately for breath, reaching her arm around his head for balance. He nibbled softly on her ear as he circled and dipped his finger into her, letting her slippery body slide tortuously slowly up and down against his.

"You're so beautiful..." he whispered, "When you fight... it's like this... ironic ballet... watching you... your body like the deadliest weapon in the face of an enemy... and yet," he plunged the finger he had been touching her with deep inside her. Nikita writhed against him, moaning loudly, as he went on, "And yet, I know your body can be like this... an instrument of pleasure... pure, supreme bliss..."

He kissed her neck, softly teasing the sensitive skin, as he added another finger inside her. Nikita gasped as the steam from the shower added to the feverish peak Michael was stroking her body towards, his fingers working in and out of her, brushing his thumb across her clit with each withdrawal. She shuddered as she felt her orgasm fast approaching, the scrape of Michael's teeth to the side of her neck, quickly soothed with his tongue sending her over the edge. She cried out, arching against him, his strong arms keeping her upright as her body quaked with pleasure.

As she recovered, Nikita shot Michael a lascivious grin over her shoulder. He bent her slowly forward so she could brace her hands against the wall, and Nikita braced her left foot up on the edge of the tub, opening herself fully to his view. Michael's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her submissive posture. She was perfect - every inviting inch of her.

He bent his knees and came up so that his erection slid between her soapy legs. They opened wider to him, and he eagerly accepted their invitation, easing himself inside. It was a difficult position, as slippery and wet as they were, but the danger of falling only made the already hot passion of their coupling even sweeter. He thrust into her with a powerful abandon, wrapping his arm around her to dip his fingers into her curls once again.

The moment he touched the raw bundle of nerves in her body's center, Nikita cried out, instinctively bending over further. Michael used his other hand on her shoulder for purchase, pushing himself firmly in and out of her in a steady, even rhythm.

"Michael... yes..." she moaned, "Harder. Please. Harder."

He tightened his grip on her hot, slick body, and pounded mercilessly into her yielding flesh, never losing time with his fingers on her clit. She tossed her head back, whipping his chest with her wet hair, a stinging lash that made him grunt, and added another "deeper" to her "harder" as he thrust convulsively.

This position... her subservience, her unerring trust in his mercy, was both tender and erotically animal at the same time. Nikita, who was always in control, was entrusting him with her heart and soul, enough to be in this completely defenseless position. Every part of this coupling was subject to his will alone, and it made the passion he already held for her that much stronger, this trade-off a true symbol of their equality and trust in one another, helping to repair their recently tested bond. Michael could feel his control beginning to slip, and bent his knees further to adjust the angle of his thrust. One last deep thrust as he rolled her clit between his fingers had Nikita screaming as she came apart in his arms.

"Yes! Michael! Yes!" she screamed.

He drove into her as he came with a shout of her name. They both rode the waves of pleasure pounding through their bodies for a few moments, until their heart rates had slowed down and Michael eased off, letting her bring her arms and leg down once again.

She turned around and smiled up at him.

"We should probably get out before we dissolve. Or Birkhoff sends a retrieval team," she said.

He smirked, "I don't know, I'm pretty sure this bathroom isn't soundproof, and after our show downstairs, I think they all know where we are."

Nikita blushed and laughed softly, still not quite recovered from their activities.

"Besides," she panted, "You bested me downstairs, I owe you one."

Michael's eyes darkened as he led her out of the shower toward their bedroom. Shooting her a trademark wry grin, he scrunched up his nose with excitement, "But who's keeping track?"

The End


End file.
